A Halloween Tale
by Raeni12345
Summary: "Too much candy and an evening spent watching horror films." Just a little Halloween inspired one-shot starring Hatter. Really couldn't think up a good name for it... sorry. Any ideas are welcome!


**AN: Happy Halloween! Just thought I would stray from my usual storylines to write a Halloween one-shot. Hope you enjoy.**

Too much candy and an evening spent watching horror films.

Hatter had eventually abandoned his bed, after his tossing and turning had twice disturbed Alice's sleep. Initially he had thought to make a cup of tea and relax on the couch, but after catching sight of the full moon, shining through the kitchen window, he had opted instead to climb the fire escape to the roof.

The nights were getting much cooler now. First frost was likely not far away, and Hatter shivered slightly and drew his worn leather jacket tighter around him, and took a sip of tea.

It had been a fun night. He and Alice had handed out candy to the kids that lived in the building, admired their costumes, and then settled on the couch with the leftover goodies to watch a few of Alice's favorite Halloween horrors.

That much sugar had been a mistake. And the movies, which had seemed almost laughable at the time, when he was cuddled on the couch with Alice, when the lamps had been on, now played tricks on his mind in the darkness and the moonlight.

Tricks, like that shadow that was playing against the far wall that looked suspiciously like a man without a head.

"Just silly stories," Hatter told himself, half out loud, fighting his growing apprehension. Years of being always on his guard in Wonderland were not serving him well now, against imagined fears conjured by actors and images.

The headless shadow moved.

Hatter tensed.

Then he heard a sound – a heavy thudding and grinding noise. He could almost imagine it would be the sound that a horse's hooves would make on a tar and gravel roof. Like the one he was on.

Hatter's stomach turned to ice.

The shadow moved again. It definitely didn't have a head.

The tea cup shattered to the ground as Hatter decided, very suddenly, that he had enough fresh air and moonlight. He moved quickly toward the fire escape, and paused to glance back across the roof at the wall.

The shadow was gone.

Still unable to shake his apprehension, he grasped the railing and stepped down onto the first stair.

A piece of metal ductwork came loose from its bindings and tumbled across the rooftop with a deafening crash.

Hatter fled.

…

The streets were quiet. Too quiet. Night or day, there were always people. Always cars.

Hatter stared up the empty street, his heart thudding heavily in his chest. Waiting. He still wasn't sure what he had seen on the roof, but the terror he felt had been unmistakeable.

A faint but heavy beat met his ears, growing steadily louder, closer. The clacking and clomping of a heavy animal. And finally it appeared.

A black horse and a dark, cloaked rider.

A rider with no head. Or maybe that shadow was his head, but in any case, it wasn't where it ought to have been. It was under his arm.

"This is a dream," Hatter told himself, and pinched hard at the sensitive skin of his inner arm. And yelped in pain as the nerve endings responded.

The horse snorted.

Not a dream?

Hatter turned and raced blindly down the road. He could hear the pounding rhythm pursuing him, now could feel the vibration in the pavement as he tried to get away.

He raced through a broken doorway and up a flight of metal stairs. Before his mind could even realize where he had run, he found himself on the very threshold of the Looking Glass. He skidded to a halt, inches shy of falling back into Wonderland.

Then he heard it. A metallic banging and scraping, of something large coming up the rusted metal stairway. He was trapped. Keeping his eye on the end of the hallway, he took a tentative step backwards.

And he was falling, through swirling colors and chaos, that seemed to spin ever faster, and seemed as though it would never end.

…

He landed hard, every ounce of breath forced from his body and refusing to return for quite a long moment. He stared dizzily at a dark but familiar looking ceiling, and it took him a bit to realize just where he was.

The selling floor of his tea shop was as quiet as the street had been, and was mostly obscured in darkness. He stumbled across the room, tripping on overturned tables and overgrown plants. He hit a small switch on the wall, and the lights began to flicker.

The room was largely as he remembered it – ransacked by the suits and later by looters. Tables were overturned and glass was broken, shards glimmering in the dirt of the floor. The podium that Dormie had sold Tea from was still standing, and as he glanced at it, a piece of fabric caught his eye.

He crossed the room in what felt like a single bound, and snatched up the tattered oversized tweed suit jacket. It was empty and abandoned, its petite owner nowhere to be found.

Then Hatter felt his stomach churn as his hand touched something sticky and still a little wet. The coat's collar and shoulders were stained with crimson red.

The Tea Shop door flew off its hinges and hit the wall with a bang. The black steed charged forward, his headless master driving him ever after Hatter.

Hatter backed away, trying to reach the safety of his office without taking his eye off the enemy.

Just as his hand touched the knob of the office door, the black cloak that the rider had been wearing came loose and fluttered away, revealing a black suit, a white shirt, an empty neck. In one hand, the rider held a long sharp knife. In the other, he held a large white object.

A ceramic cookie jar, shaped like a rabbit head.

Hatter froze, his entire body turned to ice. He could hear it – mechanical laughter echoing all around him.

The horse reared up, and the rider brandished the knife, preparing to strike. And at the last moment, Hatter came to his senses, and ducked as the knife imbedded itself in the wood of the wall. Then he tore through his office door, tore across the once-green grass, and nearly tripping over the remains of his desk. He jerked open the back door and flew recklessly down the ladder and out onto the narrow city ledges.

He ran until he could hardly breath, could hardly hold himself upright, and he finally collapsed against a wall, trying to listen for hoof beats over the pounding of his heart and the screaming of his lungs.

Blessed silence met his ears. He took a few long, steadying breaths before pressing onward. His only hope was to reach his smuggling boat. Ghosts couldn't cross water. If he could reach it, he'd be safe.

He pressed against the walls as he rushed along. Just a few more minutes...

The wall ahead of him suddenly exploded into rubble, and the black horse, bearing the headless piece of Hatter's past, reared before him once again. The knife swung down at him. Once again, it missed him by a fraction, but sent his hat fluttering down into oblivion.

Hatter backed away, trying to keep his footing on the narrow ledge, as the horse moved forward once again.

The headless ghost of Mad March cackled, then forcefully threw the ceramic rabbit head. It shattered against Hatter's chest and knocked him off balance. He struggled for a foothold as the walkway beneath him crumbled, and he found himself falling.

The last thing he heard as he careened into the darkness was a mechanical voice chuckle and say, "Goodbye Hatter!"

…

Alice found him on the roof, frozen and staring with unseeing eyes at the far wall. His tea cup lay, shattered, at his feet, his hat lying on the ground a few feet away.

She wrapped her arms around him, and stroked and patted his face. "Hatter! Wake up, Hatter!"

He finally blinked, then started to shiver, and she pulled him further into her. And as she did, a bit of movement caught her eye on the far side of the roof. Just the slightest hint of a shadow, that swiftly disappeared from the wall.

And almost like an echo, she could swear she heard a faint, mechanical voice say, "Twinkle twinkle, little bat."

**AN: So, this could, I suppose, almost be a crossover between Alice and Sleepy Hollow... which I obviously draw my inspiration from deeply (and it was likely one of the movies Hatter watched before trying to go to bed). Hope you enjoyed it.**

**Trick or treat! Please review! Those are the best treats for me and my muse (and calorie free!). Constructive criticism always welcome as well. Cheers!**

**Happy Halloween.**


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